Unapologetic
by Sonya Omun
Summary: One-shot. Soubi apologises for a lot of things. This is not one of them.


**UNAPOLOGETIC**

Soubi's apologies are worthless.

Ritsuka is shaking with anger. His face is burning and his knuckles shine white through the skin of his clenched fists.

'Tell me!' He demands, knowing full well the futility of his words. He can't help it. The torrent of emotions swirling in his chest, muddling his thoughts like cotton inside his skull, always reduces him to the same furious questions and choked orders.

As always, Soubi is outwardly unfazed by his outburst as he looks down at Ritsuka. This wasn't the first time one of Soubi's visits ended in his sacrifice's accusatory demands for answers and Ritsuka guesses it won't be the last. If only Soubi would speak the thruth, if only he could-

'I can't. Punish me however you see fit.'

The sincerity in Soubi's voice makes Ritsuka want to scream and shout. The words send electrical jolts through his limbs, starting in his fists, that scuttle across his shoulders and back to come together in his spine. Ritsuka squirms.

'Get out!'

Soubi turns without question.

'I'm sorry.'

His apologies are worthless.

Ritsuka has only just finished applying the last bandage when Soubi knocks on his bedroom window. He straightens the overly large sweatshirt to insure all the cloth dressings are out of sight, ignoring the stings of freshly cleaned cuts and scrapes, and opens the window with hands still smelling of antiseptic.

Soubi enters, hair shining platinum blonde in the glow of the moon in the clear sky. The early autumn night is crisp and silent.

Soubi stills when he looks at Ritsuka and something tightens in his face, only for a moment. He reaches up and grazes one of his pale fingers over Ritsuka's left cheekbone, just below his eye- - Ritsuka involuntarily sucks in a breath, hissing in pain before he can stop himself.

Ritsuka never looks in the mirror after it happens. He doesn't want to see his own hollow eyes look back at him, foreign, yet tauntingly familiar. Only now does he remember the stray graze of her knuckles against his face, painless amidst all his other aches and bruises.

Ritsuka pulls away from Soubi's cool finger and gingerly feels the swelling of his black eye, suddenly aware of how tight the throbbing skin feels.

He doesn't look at Soubi and sinks into his deskchair, facing away from the man. The history assignment he left on his desk mocks him; it's insignificance reminding him how different he is, how strange. How wrong he is.

'Ritsuka,'

He flinches at the sound of his name. The name he took from someone else.

'Say the word and I'll-'

'No!'

Ritsuka's voice manages to sound both shrill and weak. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want the cruel hope that Soubi, unwittingly or not, tortures him with. Soubi doesn't understand.

'I'm sorry.'

His apologies are worthless.

The butterfly moves it's wings slowly, perched on the seat of the wooden park bench in the spring day's late sun.

Ritsuka keeps his eyes trained on it as he blindly pulls his camera from his schoolbag. He bends over the bench, trying to get a close up of the colourful faux-eye patterns on it's wings. He feels Soubi draw closer and lean in as well, but he remains focused on the butterfly and brings the camera to eye level.

Soubi's fingers move into shot just as Ritsuka's own moves to push the button. He lowers the device enough to look at Soubi's hand, reaching for the butterfly.

'If you move slowly, gently,' Soubi murmers, and Ritsuka is surprised at how close he is, 'the butterfly is defenceless.'

The very tips of Soubi's thumb and forefinger close around the butterfly's wings, holding them together and preventing escape. He plucks it off the bench and holds it up, it's multiple legs and segmented body twitching and flailing fruitlessly.

Ritsuka feels something tighten in his stomach as he looks at the insect's helpless struggle, he can't take his eyes from it.

'Now you can do with it as you like,' Soubi's voice sounds different, harsher beneath the well hearsed, melodic gentleness.

'You can release it,' Soubi says, but he keeps hold of the butterfly.

'Or,' he brings up his other hand to also grasp the frail wings, as if readying to rip the creature in twain like a piece of paper. 'you can tear it apart.'

The knot in Ritsuka's stomach jumps and he moves before realising it. 'Don't hurt him!'

His own small hands knock against the man's wrist and Soubi relinquishes the butterfly, which moves away and out of sight with erratic flutters.

Ritsuka looks at Soubi, who is staring back with an indiscernible look on his face. It's there for just a moment before it's gone and Soubi's expression shutters back to a soothing smile.

'Don't do that again!' Ritsuka snaps, tone offset somewhat by his flushed face.

Soubi quirks a slender eyebrow at him and Ritsuka wonders if Soubi is secretly mocking him before he answers:

'Of course. I'm sorry.'

His apologies are worthless.

Ritsuka is relaxed. He can't help it.

They're sitting on Ritsuka's bed, Ritsuka leaning against Soubi's warm chest. It hadn't been warm when Soubi pulled him into the embrace, as Soubi had traversed the rain without an umbrella. Again.

The clatter of rain against the windows ebbs and flows with the play of strong winds. Ritsuka is secretly glad Soubi pulled the curtains shut after his dripping entry.

It had taken time for Ritsuka to settle down against his fighter, fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably, but Soubi had persisted- - with gentle touches, his calm breathing and a growing warmth against Ritsuka's back.

One of Soubi's hands now rests on Ritsuka's waist- - respectfully above his hip - -while the other lightly threads through his hair, occasionally stroking along the edge of one of his cat ears. Ritsuka shivers every time.

Soubi presses his cheek against the top of Ritsuka's head.

'I love you, Ritsuka.'

A coldness spreads through Ritsuka, starting at the crown of his head where he can feel Soubi's breath in his hair. Ritsuka's cat ears flatten as he ducks his head, cringing away from Soubi.

Soubi closes both arms around Ritsuka's middle, strong, but not forceful. 'Please,'

Ritsuka almost misses the word as Soubi whispers into his hair. He stops trying to move away, tense in Soubi's embrace as the man adjusts his hold on Ritsuka, pulling him closer to his chest once more.

'Let me stay like this a little longer,' Soubi's voice seems smaller somehow, frailer.

Ritsuka allows himself to be held, shoulders hunched, black bangs hiding his expression.

It takes longer this time, but Ritsuka relaxes. He can't help it. Soft fingers reverently trace the outline of one of his feline ears. Ritsuka shudders.

Soubi's apologies are worthless. But there are some things Soubi doesn't apologise for.

**A/N: Feel free to point out any and all spelling or grammar mistakes. Constructive criticism, questions and comments are very welcome.**


End file.
